


Things We Lost in The Fire

by punkgrump



Series: Memories of You On Memory Foam [4]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sleepy Cuddling, puuuuuure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:46:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7473786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkgrump/pseuds/punkgrump
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Let's take it slow."</p>
<p>And so they did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things We Lost in The Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I'm feeling a bit eh abt this, but personally, I think it's p cute

"Let's take it slow." 

And so they did. Leaning on each other while reading, turned to cuddling, turned to small kisses, turned to sharing a bed, turned to not just being Moony, but his Moony, turned to slow reconstruction. Dear, dearest, and darling could punctuate any sentence. In spite of aging and watching Harry and his friends seem to grow up more and more each day, it was like being teenagers again. 

The vividity of Remus's brown eyes was so rudely sucked from Sirius's memory while in Azkaban, but it took only a little bit of warm intimacy to return color into his recollections of Remus. Once returned, remaining memories of Remus, shuddering and sobbing, or bruised and bloodied; they were painted over with closed eyes and parted lips, breathing steadily and strongly. 

New memories were made, and Sirius didn't just have to hold on the awful ones left. In Azkaban, Sirius only had recollections of Remus seething or self loathing to hold onto. Now, there were memories of Remus acting fatherly to Harry, grinning from ear to ear when Sirius made bad jokes, and the warmth emitted when Remus held him. For once, the pleasant could outweigh the ugly.

Sirius sat to read a beaten copy of a book from Remus's shelf, excitedly claiming how it had caught his eye. Soon after Sirius, Remus came to the couch, resting his head in the vacant spot on Sirius's lap.

Looking down to the added warmth and weight in his lap, Sirius brought a hand down to the source. Undeniably, he liked how Remus would fall asleep anywhere (usually on Sirius) as the full moons edged near. Though, headaches and feelings of being ill would more than likely accompany tiredness but, he at least liked that he didn't have to suffer through alone when Sirius was there. 

"Need anything, Moons?"

"Jus' for you t' be still. Nob'dy likes a talking pillow." Remus's thin fingers rubbed at his eyes.

Sirius had seen this moment at least ten different times. Though, he'd forgotten the melodic sound of Remus's voice, (He was quickly reminded again.) Peter's laugh, (Though, maybe he didn't want to remember...) and the color of James's eyes, (They were brown.) Remus still felt like home. 

Sirius didn't know home until he'd met a couple of bright-eyed boys on a train to school. He didn't know home until fear of being sorted was remedied by the more sophisticated boy. After the war, Remus was his home. Home was Remus's sweaters softening rough edges. Home smelled of cocoa and minty tea. Home was soft snoring and incoherent sleep speak. Home was Remus.

An hour later, Remus began to stir, mumbling into Sirius's hip. He spoke through tired eyes and a his nonsensical dreams melting away. 

"Padfoot?"

"Hm?"

"Love you."

Yes, that was home.


End file.
